Steal and Shiver
by Joule Sweet
Summary: Hotsuma sees his partner healing, and his own wounds flare to life.   Hotsuma x Shusei


**Notes:** So I decided to take on two challenges in this one: present tense AND second person perspective. I was inspired by the story on my favorites list which is a remarkable piece in that it moved me deeply despite being for a fandom I really dislike. But as for my story, I like a lot of it and don't like just as much. Oh well. It was fun to experiment, anyway.

Do Shusei and Hotsuma share a room? I have no idea. In this one, no, but their bedrooms are connected by a shared parlor.

(Not sure yet if I want to do a follow-up with Shusei's P.O.V.)

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**Steal and Shiver**

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**You don't understand what she sees in you.

Yoshino is a smart girl, at least she appears so on the surface. She gets good grades, pays attention in class when you don't, and has a multitude of friends to tell her what an idiotic decision she's made in choosing to like you. You find yourself studying her sometimes, and when she catches the stare and blushes, you know you've led her to think the wrong thing again.

You hate the sensation of fear that slivers through your veins like acid when you consider the possibility of obtaining her friendship. Your walls are strong and expansive with years of careful construction, isolation the only goal. You think if you see another person burst into hellfire from your careless words, you might as well crawl into a cave and live alone for the rest of your life, because nothing will save you then.

The image of your partner stays an unchanging portrait, the only bastion inside chaos. You are grateful for his unwavering strength, but maybe it frightens you a little as well. Your dependence has grown through the years into a behemoth of weak. It's easier to ignore the implications of it, so you think instead that Yuki's hair is a very pretty shade of brown, almost tinting pink in the fluorescent lighting.

School is a necessary evil, but you wish you could be anywhere else but trapped inside the drone of banality spilling through the teacher's lips. He mentions something about homework that you jot down with the usual annoyance, figuring you might do it if Shusei is busy after school with archery practice or some other pointlessness. You'd rather talk him into a movie or quick trip to the arcade to blow through some time. You can always ask Yuki or even Tsukumo, but you know that it won't be the same as spending time with Shusei.

You can feel Yoshino's eyes and confirm their gaze with a quick sweep to the left. Your brows furrow when you realize she's slipped into a trance which must mean she's been looking for awhile. You can't be angry at her for this, but it still causes a prick somewhere deep that can't be sated with normal rationalizations.

Somewhere deep longs for connections more than anything else. Even with the constant reassurance that your partner is there and will _always_ be there, it aches like an ancient wound and slow poison. You hide the pain with anger as usual and scowl, avoiding the girl's attention.

You didn't even bother to comb your hair that morning, so it's sticking out like sprawling weeds and falling into your eyes while you are waiting for Shusei to come out of the building. You've staked the front gates like a statue, eyes seeking the familiar head of brown.

"Renjou-kun."

Her voice is soft and sweet like bells, but you've never particularly liked that metallic _ping_ that sounds so pure and clean. You look down at her because she's kind of short, although that supposed flaw only adds to her charm. You have to admit that the way she shuffles her feet and blushes slightly pink is quite cute, but your heart stays thick and dead inside your chest as you grunt a quick response. "Huh?"

She's steeling herself for something important, stiffening her shoulders and standing a bit straighter. Her head lifts so that her eyes can meet yours, a sheen that makes you uneasy. That's been growing for awhile, and you don't like it much.

"Renjou-kun, I want-"

You can already see the train lights approaching in the distance, and the impending wreck is the inevitable ending. You're already planning the response in your head as she plows forward, foolish hope clouding her rationality. When have you ever given her that?

_"I'm sorry- for yelling at you. Use this-"_

You don't remember the first time, the second time, and this third time will be forgotten just as easily. That could mean you're a jerk, but you can't make yourself feel something for someone who can never breach the moat, climb the walls, get inside. She's probably one of the few people who could have been terribly precious if things were different, but they aren't. Life is funny like that.

You aren't laughing.

"I- I'm sure you know how much I like you. I still- still do. So please, Renjou-kun, I want to go on a date with you. Just one, once, I promise. Can you- will you say yes?"

You think Yoshino's probably watched too many dramas, as cliche as the words are that fall out of her mouth in an embarrassed rush. She's more red than pink now, and she can no longer look up from the ground where there's nothing but blank concrete. That's fine, because she would only see the same on your face as you wonder what makes her think this time will be any different.

"I'm sorry." You're not, but she doesn't have to know the lies when the truth will only destroy. You might even regret the fact that you can't return her feelings, but that only lasts a moment after her eyes lift again and shine with more water. She cried the first time, didn't she? That was the moment Shusei's handkerchief left your hands and dropped into hers, and the first mistake that nearly caused you to lose him forever.

It's not her fault, but you can't stop yourself from disliking her part in those events anyway. Bitterness comes that you bite back and you say platitudes that cause more agony than silence would have. "I can't return your feelings. I'm just- not interested. You know? Can't change that."

You don't really hear what she says before she runs off like the terrors of the world are hot on her heels. Shusei is walking towards you, surrounded by a bevy of second-year girls who are hanging onto the words he says like gold and silver are wound about them. Shusei is such a prince, it really makes your stomach twist with something that isn't jealousy but just as strong and sour.

You wonder when his smiles became real again and began to shine for people that aren't you. Naturally it's a good thing that he is no longer suicidal and has come to find the joys in life, in living, but you don't know why frustration begins to pinch. For some reason, the times that he looked at you with desperation, wanting to be _needed_, needing to be _wanted_, and finding solace only in your consolation are the most treasured memories you have.

Promises that Shusei said and you agreed to are all the comfort you can find inside the heat of the sunlight, breaking a sweat when the stifle of your jacket becomes too much. You peel it back and realize your eyes have never left Shusei and his admirers and that if looks could kill, there would be several dead girls at your partner's feet.

Shusei is done sweeping his smiles at the rabble and catches your glare, tilting his head when it dawns on him that you're pissed off. He isn't deterred and continues to walk the straight path, dismissing the girls with a quick wave and easy grin. You hear his words and let them spark around you. "See you tomorrow morning in the library. We'll finish it then."

They call him Usui-kun and mirror his warm goodbye, bright phantoms that have no business in your world of war and death. You look at Shusei and wonder how he can be so calm and dry when the heat of the day is drenching your clothes with wet. He doesn't seem to notice as he stands away from you, eternal perfection at a distance. He could have just stepped out of the house at the beginning of the day, immaculately pressed and polished.

That bothers you too, but mostly that your eyes drink the sight like oasis in the midst of infinite desert. You mask your impropriety with aggravation, and he is none-the-wiser because it's the routine you've settled into. "Those girls, what're you meeting them for?"

His reply is simple as he begins to walk past. "We're working on a project for class, that's all."

You somehow resist the urge to grab him and force his attention back to you, even though you covet the flit of his fawn eyes, enjoy the race of your heartbeat when he's too close for 'just friends.' You fall into step beside him while clutching the strap of your bag, thrown carelessly over your shoulder like you wouldn't mind tossing it into the nearest garbage bin. You shrug though he doesn't see. "That's a pretty lame excuse."

Shusei's smile doesn't say anything and neither does he. The silence bothers you, but you leave it alone.

You end up back at the Twilight Mansion because Shusei declines your invitations to the arcade and movies. You're pretty good at pretending that the little things don't matter, so it doesn't crush you to have your plans stomped. You mutter something about your partner's stuck-in-the-mud tendencies and pick up your DS.

You lose yourself in the game for awhile.

When nighttime rolls around, you find Shusei in the bath by himself. The steam rises off the hot water but doesn't mask the angry red of his scars against the white of his skin. You slip into the water with a small hiss and address your friend across.

"Supposed to be a clear sky tonight."

He understands what you're saying, and the corners of his mouth lift like you hoped. "Is that so?"

You shove aside the urge to close the distance between you and do something horribly un-platonic. You don't know when those appetites started, either.

Sometimes you'll wake up with a start and realize that your entire body is straining, insufferable heat making the sheets slick and sticky. You won't remember all of the details of your dream, but Shusei is always there with crystal clarity in your thoughts, though you think it strange. You tell yourself that you just crave affirmation that you are still the only one he needs and that physical affection is merely a way to get it.

You thought it was sexy in the dream where Shusei smoked, although you could have done without the smell. He pressed his cigarette into your mouth and made you cough on smoke until he kissed the breath out of you.

You thought it was going to drive you mad in the dream where you saw Shusei's hands reach up to his tie like that, loosening it with slow sensuality, purposeful pause and teasing in his eyes. He used that thin strip of cloth to bind your wrists over your head while he slicked his tongue all over your body.

You're lost in your thoughts, and your partner notices the drift. He blessedly moves closer, becomes clearer in the mist and richly painted. "Hotsuma?"

He's extremely handsome, so you tell yourself that it's normal to want him.

You reach out and close your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs gracing the tips of his scarred flesh. You avoid the burns and keep your focus on the smoothness, retracting so that he comes towards you. Up close he's an exotic animal, the symmetry of his face impossibly beautiful, brows drawn upward with the surprised look widening his eyes. He's older than you but almost appears a child.

His breath is holding while yours heaves. You can't stop thinking that he's a piece of you that was lost somehow, and maybe not even consuming him whole can bring it back inside. You decide that it's not important as long as he stays by your side forever.

Your hands release him, but your eyes continue to hold his with a ferocious dare. "You'll come and see me tonight, won't you?" You don't know why it's suddenly the most pivotal point, why the yearning for Yuki has faded into a specter and you've somehow forgotten that there's a legion of darkness clawing at the walls of the world.

Why his small nod fills your entire being with light.

Sitting in the bask of starlight kept vivid by the empty sky, you watch him just as much as the twinkling lights, thinking that the two things are extremely similar. Both hold enough beauty to still the air in your throat, both gentle and encompassing and kind. Shusei's eyes hold much of the innocence you could swear had been lost in the turmoil of your ruined childhoods when he looks up from the window.

His profile is striking, sharp, defined lines that you'd love to trace carefully with your fingers. You don't think you're envious so much as infatuated, and the parallels between you and Yoshino can't be seen because you aren't looking at yourself. Your eyes seek Shusei because that's where they want to be.

The stars sparkle in his ginger irises and dazzle you for a few seconds. Time has ceased to flow and sputters like the words you can't form. Shusei is looking at you now, and you stumble through the choked atmosphere like a child lost in the dark. "What is it, Hotsuma?"

He enfolds the entirety of your thoughts, even when you don't realize you're thinking about him. It probably has nothing to do with the fact that you're Zweilt guardians and have been partners for several incarnations, because the trust you have in him would exist without that bond. You believe you would have sought his strength whether or not the thorny ties of the past twist around you like shackles.

"Nothing's wrong," you say.

He looks like he doesn't believe you, but he drops it and returns to the sky. "Is that so?"

You wonder when you will be able to tell if it's the right time to finally attack those walls. It will be irreversible, so you hesitate to bring the devastation in case you're wrong and you're now the only one who _needs_. It's a good thing that Shusei has healed so remarkably, but it's also the most painful separation you could face. Little by little, pulling away with the reluctance of a bandage stuck tight. The wound is still open.

You think it's too late for a lot of things.

The stars are the same brilliance they always were, and it makes sense because they have such vast lifespans. Even if you live another thousand lifetimes with Shusei, you won't see a difference in their shine. You don't like to think of those grand implications, so you shift your thoughts again to the nobility of Shusei's angles.

In your dreams, you would have kissed him by now.

The window seat's not big enough to stretch out on, so you would have thrown him on the floor and attacked him like a raving drunk with too much alcohol fueling your fantasies. You wonder if he would pull away with disgust or merely allow the assault without complaint. You can't imagine he would reciprocate when he's always been one to chase pretty girls.

You can't match their effortless poise and femininity, but you wouldn't want to even if you could. You might have hated yourself to the point of massacre at one point, but Shusei killed those thoughts with his unwavering kindness and acceptance. Those wrecked patches of skin beneath his pullover are the enduring proof.

You wonder if they still ache or if they're finally numb.

Shusei looks surprised when you reach out and take his hand in your own, though his cheeks remain clear of the blush that has blossomed in yours. You try to shake the nervousness by gripping tighter, pulling closer, looking at his captured fingers like they're a puzzle you can solve with your eyes. "I'm still kinda pissed, you know." You're talking when you should be letting the silence cloak the bold of your actions. "It's like you never want to go out and do anything with me anymore."

"What can I say, there's been a lot of homework assignments lately." He doesn't sound apologetic but watches you carefully, his hand slack in yours. You think it would be nice if he would give you an indication that this is where he wants to be, but his hesitance make you think otherwise. When did you become an obstruction in his life?

You like to think you've moved past the unsaid that choked your relationship, but you realize in an ugly flash that nothing has changed. Your dreams are intensely blinding because the reality is the opposite. Endless veils are between you, even as you touch his skin direct, even as you lean closer for the sound of his breath.

If it's for him, you think, you can do anything. Even if it kills you, you can let go.

"Hotsuma, you're acting a bit odd today." It makes you happy that he finally noticed.

"Yoshino confessed." You don't know why you're telling him this, maybe somehow hoping he'll feel jealous or upset like you did when you saw him smiling at those nameless girls from before. "So it's pissing me off."

"Why? Didn't you let her down gently enough?" Shusei doesn't know anything, you think with a red blast of anger. You could have been a hundred times more cruel and the reaction would have been the same. No matter how the word is spoken, it's still the same meaning. _No _when she wanted to hear yes.

You glower and grip his hand as tight as possible without crunching the bones of his fingers to dust. He winces a bit, and you almost release him to see the discomfort abandon his features. You're pulling him closer now with a scowl on your face, wondering how he can be so dense when that's your goddamn job. "I probably made her cry," you say through clenched teeth. "So what?"

"You tell me, Hotsuma. You're the one acting like an agitated porcupine." His eyes see things you can't. "Maybe you didn't want to reject her."

He's the biggest idiot in the world if he thinks he's anywhere close to the truth. You don't know how to convince him that he's completely wrong, but it hardly seems to matter when he still hasn't reciprocated.

You let go because it's impossible for now. He falls back a bit as you stand up and make your way to the door of your room. "Never mind." He doesn't follow you, but you don't expect him to.

When you fall into the heap of your blankets and sheets, you can't sleep and count spots in the dark for at least an hour.

You find yourself trudging through the darkness to his bedroom, clutching your pillow under your right arm and blanket under the other. You meant to detour and take to the couch, but you're in his room and watching the dull rise and fall of him in the moonlight.

As you lay in bed beside him, you realize he's not a lost piece of yourself as much as he now holds a part of you that you willingly let go, entrusting him to keep it safe and warm when the rest of you is falling to ruin. As long as he holds that one fragment with the care and love that you've come to expect, you know you can be rebuilt just as strong as before.

These are thoughts you have never told Shusei, always finding the words around someone else to express your deep devotion but stalling when it's him that's in front of you. You know that you fear his reaction because it's uncertain. Knowing Shusei as well as you do, you expect he would blow it off with a teasing reply, laugh softly to deflect the emotion, or perhaps ignore it completely and change the subject. You don't know how to make him take you seriously without falling to your knees and begging like a child. Even with such a display, he might not understand.

So the way you reveal it is swathed in deception. You throw out brief hints to see if he can pick them up, but it never seems to matter. You wonder if you're just not smart enough or if you've blinded yourself to the rejection. Sometimes you dangle the possibility that you care about him more than just as a partner, more than just as a friend. Sometimes you say you love Yuki more than you actually do to see if he cares.

He awakens with your fall into bed beside him and murmurs low in the dark. "Hotsuma, can't sleep?"

You grumble a response that sounds like a feral growl, but your face is buried so deeply in your pillow words wouldn't have been understood. When you find the will to turn and face him, you struggle to see through the dark because his face is only inches away and his expression can reveal so much and so little. You're looking at a box you're afraid to open because what's inside might be beautiful but deadly.

You think it won't be such a horrible way to die.

You whisper embarrassment and bless the night that covers the crimson of your face. "Shusei? Can I move closer?"

His response is the _yes_ that you've been waiting for, so you shift until your body presses flush against his, and you lose yourself in the cold sheets as you scramble to capture him in your arms. He seems as strong as marble and frail as weathered shale in your embrace, so you don't know how tightly to hold on.

You look at him and see all the colors of a kaleidoscope shining through the night, you hear the haunting melodies of a sacred hymn in his breath, you feel cashmere when your hands close around the soft and hard of his back, you catch the scent of soap in his hair strands that tickle your nose, and you taste acid fear. Your senses are captivated by this boy who means everything to the design of your existence. You are trapped inside his labyrinth, but you are not lost.

You think that _home_ is a simple but very pretty word.

You never thought Shusei would be a thief, but he probably doesn't realize it himself. He stole your heart and doesn't even care.

The dreams are a striking memory that play over and over to the beat of your blinding devotion. You feel warm in places that you can't even mention without flushing scarlet, and the fact that your partner is close enough to act out those scenes is the last drop that brings overflow to your resolve. Your thumb traces the thin lips that you taste, bitter and sweet.

Your kiss surprises him to stillness but only for a moment. Your dreams haven't prepared you for the swirl of his tongue around yours or how swiftly he responds to your advances and pushes further. You always imagined your first kiss would be a platonic peck, not the plunder that Shusei initiates. He steals again and again-your breath, your heartbeats, the pieces of your soul that fracture beneath his sure hands.

You decide it's fine to die like this.

When you're this close to him, everything seems easy and clear as crystal. Shusei is everything you wish you could be and the only thing you wish you could say was yours alone. He is complex simplicity and devouring calm. The contradictions of his perfection are the endless fascinating mystery that keeps you enchanted. He makes you fiercely strong and pathetically weak. The power that you hate is your most cherished fragility because it allows you to stay by his side.

Shusei is everything that matters and the only person who is essential to your happiness. Everyone else can fade sepia in the background, and it will be fine as long as Shusei remains color. The draw of your blood to Yuki can't compare to the gushing sea of flames that spreads before you when you're this close to Shusei, the agony and ecstasy of your awkward dance. You're lost in the kiss that you wish would never have to end so that you could be connected to him physically as viciously as your passion burns.

But he does pull back, allowing you to notice that his arms have come around you like a velvety prison, and you let yourself fall into a dreamless sleep after whispering a quick apology that he deflects with a sad smile.

His words chase your consciousness down the well.

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

In the morning when he wakes early and struggles to break free of your cage, you pretend that you're still asleep and your arms are steel.


End file.
